


Doesn't Suck

by Telaryn



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Leverage, Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Banter, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Breathplay, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Multi, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex for Favors, Threesome - M/M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Eliot bait a trap for the Starling City vigilante, but in the end it's hard to say who's trapped who.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doesn't Suck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saucynewf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucynewf/gifts).



> I recently put up an offer for a fic a day for the first twenty days of December. This is prompt #10, provided by [](http://saucynewf.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://saucynewf.livejournal.com/)**saucynewf** , who wanted Dean/Eliot/Arrow porn. Been a while since I've stretched these particular muscles P - hope it lives up to the expectation!

Eliot misses the exact moment when he goes from talking to the hooded vigilante to kissing him, but Queen has his full weight leaned into Eliot now – grinding his wrists into the drywall so hard there will be bruises before morning – and the feeling of being restrained by someone who might actually be his match is so intoxicating that it carves a line straight from his brain to his dick.

Oliver’s thigh is already pressed against his crotch, so he feels it the second Eliot’s cock hardens. “You like this, huh?” he asks, pulling back slightly and looking into the hitter’s eyes. Eliot doesn’t look away. He’s as sure as he can be that his line in the sand is still further out than Queen’s, and as long as that’s the case it doesn’t really matter who has the upper hand in this moment.

“Doesn’t suck,” he admits, raising his chin slightly, his expression challenging.

Queen’s answering grin is almost feral. “You do though, don’t you? Or you will by the time I’m finished with you.” It’s part threat, part promise, and delivered with just the right amount of confidence. Eliot makes a show of struggling against Oliver’s grip, and is rewarded with a flood of endorphins when the vigilante leans into him a fraction of an inch more; driving the ache in his wrists that much closer to outright pain.

“What now, hero?” he growls. His blood is up, and he’s ready for however this spins out. The idea that Oliver Queen might actually have the chops to dominate him is a pleasantly distracting thought that he files away for later consideration.

“I’m no hero,” Oliver counters, and the words are rote – like he’s said them too many times already. Before Eliot can react, Queen loops a cable tie tight around his right wrist and uses Eliot’s own momentum to spin him face first into the wall; catching and binding his left wrist and then securing them together.

The fingers of his right hand sink into the fall of Eliot’s hair; the hitter barely has a chance to catch his breath before Queen tightens his hand into a fist and uses it to hold Eliot’s head still. “There’s a lot to be said for a good hard fuck, though.” His left hand wraps around Eliot’s hip bone, fingers digging in deliberately hard as he pulls him backwards. Eliot closes his eyes, shuddering as he feels the bulge of Oliver’s erection pressing into the cleft of his ass. Before he can say anything, his head is wrenched painfully to the side, and he feels the knife-sharp stab of Oliver’s teeth sinking into the skin of his neck.

Oliver takes his time with this move – not breaking skin, but drawing more than enough blood to the area that Eliot knows he’ll be sporting this one for _days_. He shudders again, endorphin levels rising far enough to make his head spin and his cock achingly hard. He feels Oliver’s low chuckle as a vibration against his skin, and the stray thought that Queen is trying to claim him - _mark_ him - is almost enough to make him reconsider the plan.  
*************  
The one thing that never occurs to Ollie is that Spencer would willingly act as _bait_. As such, his bow is slung and he’s too close and too distracted when he finally senses Dean Winchester’s approach. He starts to turn, tries to push away from Eliot, but Dean is faster – grabs his bow and uses it to leverage Oliver down. He strikes the concrete slab hard, tries to turn it into a backwards roll, and ends up cursing and getting tangled in his own weapon. Dean kicks him flat, then pins him in place by planting a boot firmly in the middle of his chest. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Ollie glances at the pistol, then up into Dean’s unforgiving eyes. “Didn’t know he was spoken for,” he quips, still trying to convince his lungs to work right.

“Didn’t know you’d be such an easy mark,” Dean counters, his expression deadly serious. “The amulet. Fork it over.”

The small unpolished lump of garnet was fast proving to be far more trouble than it was likely worth. “You don’t really think I’d keep it on me?”

Eliot comes up on Dean’s left then, his hands free, and Oliver feels a pleasurable twinge in his groin remembering how it felt having Spencer at his mercy; even for a few moments. “You’re a hell of an actor,” he says. Deep down Ollie knows it’s probably wishful thinking on his part, but he can’t shake the feeling that Eliot’s reactions to him weren’t entirely faked.

And no matter how this night ends up, the marks he put on Eliot’s wrists and throat are already visible in the dim light from overhead. The realization makes him smile. “We can search him,” Dean offers. He glances at Eliot, and Oliver is startled to see a smirk on his handsome features. “You looked like you didn’t mind having his hands on you – maybe you’re interested in returning the favor?”

“I’m not searching him until he’s secured,” Eliot counters. He locks eyes with Oliver. “You’re smarter than the average trust fund baby, Queen – take some more of those cable ties and secure your wrists in front of you.” His voice is low and deadly, and it’s suddenly Ollie’s turn to shiver. His next smart-ass comment dying in his throat, he slowly reaches in his pocket for a fresh set of plastic strips.  
*****************  
As soon as Queen’s wrists are secured, Eliot puts him on his knees and uses more of the cable ties to bind his ankles together. Eliot refuses to let Dean get too close, which rankles a bit, but truth be told he’s happier being able to stay at a distance and hold onto his pistol. Dean has been hunting with Eliot for six months now, sleeping with him for two, and he’s never seen anyone come as close to getting the best of him as Oliver Queen did.

Straightening up, Eliot grabs the top edge of the dark green leather hood and jerks it back – exposing Queen’s features to the light. “Don’t suppose you want to just tell us where you stashed the amulet?”

Oliver laughs, but there’s no real humor in it. “Send your boyfriend away, and maybe you and I can work something out.”

_”Doesn’t suck.”_

_”You do though, don’t you?”_

Dean swallows hard, realizing that under different circumstances he would have been completely okay with hanging back and seeing how things unfolded with Oliver Queen dominating Eliot Spencer. “Hey, if you two want to be alone…”

Eliot shoots him a look that would have had him running for his life six months ago, crouches down behind their captive, and grabs the back of his neck. Oliver winces, and Dean grins at the small pain sound the billionaire playboy makes. “You know what I’m going to do know?” Eliot says, his voice a low, rough, growl. He points at Dean. “I’m going to fuck him while you watch, and if you’re a good boy and tell us where the amulet is I _might_ let you suck his cock when I’m done.”

 _Jesus._ Dean doesn’t even have the words to describe how on board he is with this plan.

Eliot gives Queen’s neck a quick shake, and now it’s Dean’s turn to wince in sympathy. “You’re my bitch now, O-li-ver, and by the time I’m done with you you’re going to be begging to give us that gem.”

Dean is half-convinced he imagines the soft plastic snapping sound that echoes in the stillness following Eliot’s threat, but the hitter is already backing up when Queen swings into action. Dean starts to raise his pistol again, but in the time it takes him to aim they’re fighting too close for him to get a clean shot. Wading into the fray and trying to help out isn’t an option either – he still remembers the chewing out he got from Eliot the last time he tried that.

So he hangs back. And he waits. And in less than five minutes Queen has Eliot secured in a complicated hold and is using him as a shield against anything Dean might be willing to try.

“Who’s the bitch now?”  
*******************  
He can get free – that isn’t the problem. Eliot knows it will probably cost him a dislocated shoulder at the very least, but he _can_ do it. The issue is that they need the amulet and they’re running out of time. Controlling Queen long enough to get it is going to take more extreme measures than Eliot prefers to employ these days – especially since the vigilante has already told them what he might be willing to exchange for the prize.

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to explain his thought processes, because the fact that on some level he _wants_ the same thing Queen is after makes the whole thing sound like a very elaborate rationalization.

Eliot looks up at Dean to steady himself and blows out a quiet breath, stilling all his remaining doubts. “All right Queen. Keeping in mind that I can end you if you decide to be a dick about this, what will you take in trade for the amulet?”

Queen is silent for a moment, then he says to Dean, “There’s a coil of rope on the worktable over there. Leave your gun and bring it to me.”

Eliot reads the question in his partner’s eyes and nods. _Do as he says._

“Put a slip knot in it and put it over his head,” Queen directs when Dean returns with the rope. It’s high-fiber industrial rope – not Eliot’s first choice when it comes to any sort of bondage play, but it will do the job. Once the quick noose is around Eliot’s neck, Oliver releases his hold, pulls it just tight enough to be threatening, and then tosses the balance back at Dean. “Tie his hands.”

Eliot obediently brings his wrists together in front of his body, watching with a sort of detached fascination as Dean ties them securely together. He knows his partner is on board with this plan, and he trusts Dean to call a halt to things if it looks like Queen is going to double cross them. Beyond that…Eliot’s pretty sure he’s in for a whole lot of payback in the next hour or so.

And he’s strangely okay with all of it.

His brain goes unnaturally quiet as they get him to his feet. It falls to Dean to strip him from the waist down, while Oliver continues to control him with the noose around his neck. Proving that his partner is so very much on board with this, Dean pauses before getting back to his feet to roll the bead of pre-come quivering at the end of Eliot’s cock onto his tongue. Eliot’s heart-rate immediately leaps, and he closed his eyes briefly – riding out the surge of pleasure.

“There’s something in the right hand drawer of the work table I think you’re going to want,” Oliver says. Looking momentarily puzzled, Dean nevertheless returns to the table and searches.

“You know this isn’t the end of it,” Eliot says quietly. “When this is all over, I’m coming back for you.”

Oliver cards the fingers of his free hand through Eliot’s hair. “Best man ends up on top.”  
******************  
It’s one of the more surreal things he’s ever been involved with, and given his five years on the island, Ollie knows that’s saying something.

Eliot ends up on his knees, balancing most of his weight on his elbows. Dean is kneeling behind him, fucking him open with two well-lubed fingers – and if possible, Oliver swears Eliot’s cock is even harder than when his clothes were first stripped away. He’s finally forced to undo his own leather pants to ease the pressure on his groin.

“Look at me, Spencer,” he says, gripping his shaft and stroking himself. “I want to see your face while your boyfriend is back there getting you ready.” Eliot raises his head, and Oliver grins at the heat in his eyes. “You two look hot together. I bet he’s looking forward to taking that ass of yours.” Eliot bites down on his lower lip, and Oliver can’t tell whether it’s because of what he’s said or something Dean did.

A moment later, Dean gets to his feet. There’s a power and grace to his movements as he loses his belt, then pushes his jeans and underwear over his hips and halfway down his thighs. Oliver realizes – possibly for the first time – that the only reason Dean Winchester is the submissive in their relationship is because Eliot is just that bad ass. With anyone else Dean would be the alpha male, no question.

A shudder ripples through Eliot as Dean positions himself, then rolls his hips forward – pushing himself inside with one long, slow, stroke. His fingers splay across Eliot’s hips, fingers dimpling the skin slightly as he reaches bottom and pulls back for another stroke – and Eliot’s control finally collapses. Emotion floods his expression, and Oliver can see as Dean finds his rhythm just how much this is hitting all of Eliot’s kinks.

 _Let’s see how far you like to be pushed, then._ Kneeling in front of Eliot, he fists his free hand in the hitter’s hair, pulling his head up to an almost painful angle. “Somebody needed to do this to you a long time ago.” He traces the swell of Eliot’s lower lip with the head of his cock; Eliot moans as Dean fucks into him again, and Oliver shoves his cock between Spencer’s lips and over his tongue.  
***********  
Dean falters for a moment when Oliver joins the party, but recovers quickly. He’s glad to have confirmation of what he’s always suspected about his partner – knowing he’d be feeling a lot more guilty about enjoying himself if Eliot had allowed this only out of necessity. Queen has both hands fisted in Eliot’s hair now, fucking his mouth hard and deep, and Dean can hear Eliot moaning over the combined sounds of their breathing.

 _Fuck…_ Reaching around, he circles Eliot’s shaft with his fingers, jacking him with firm, hard strokes. Eliot cries out around Oliver’s cock, his entire body stuttering with the force of his orgasm; the sound is almost immediately smothered as Oliver drags him forward. Dean watches as Queen finally succumbs to his own orgasm and Eliot struggles to swallow the come filling his mouth and sliding down his throat.

He’s so distracted and turned on, that when Dean finally comes his vision goes briefly white. His fingers dig into Eliot’s flesh hard, trying to steady himself as his cock twitches and pulses uncontrollably. “Fuck…fuck…fuck…” The curses spill out of him as his heart rate spikes fast and high enough to make him legitimately dizzy. He dimly realizes that Queen is lifting Eliot up – supporting the hitter’s semi-conscious form, and without thinking Dean rests more of his upper body against Eliot’s back.

When he finally feels recovered enough to pull himself free, he and Oliver lower Eliot between them to the floor. Without waiting to ask permission or forgiveness, Dean pulls his knife and cuts the ropes from around his partner’s wrists. Eliot immediately raises his arms and presses his fists to his eyes.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Dean locks eyes with Oliver Queen and lets him see just how much he’s through waiting. “Amulet. Now.”


End file.
